


Mr. Loverman

by almightygwil (elllie)



Category: Ben Hardy - Fandom, Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018) Actor RPF
Genre: Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Breakup, Exes, F/M, Fluff, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-14 22:26:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29425968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elllie/pseuds/almightygwil
Summary: Breaking up with Ben is the hardest thing you've ever done, especially when you're still in love with one another.
Relationships: Ben Hardy/Reader
Kudos: 2





	Mr. Loverman

**Author's Note:**

> Mr. Loverman // Ricky Montgomery

It becomes clear to both of you what’s happening on a day you’re too tired to pretend anymore. The dark part of your brain jokingly refers to the day as the ‘beginning of the end,’ though you know it’s been an internal battle for much longer. It’s the beginning of the end as far as Ben is concerned. 

Your cheeks are flushed from either the cold or your upset, the only emotion you’d felt all night that strayed from disinterest. Ben’s gripping the steering wheel so tight you’re beginning to become concerned, glancing back at him every few minutes to ensure he’s not gotten so distracted by his inner turmoil that he’s forgotten he’s driving. So far, his concentration is surpassing your expectations.

You know where his anxiety is coming from and you can’t summon the energy to soothe him, instead choosing to rest your head on the cool glass of the window. And you feel guilty. Ben was sweet, unapologetically and without fail, especially with you, and for you to brush past it was so unlike you. You had no idea how it had gotten to this point, and had no idea how to get back to where you were a year ago. You didn’t know if you wanted to go back.

“Please,” Ben croaks from the driver’s seat. “Just tell me what’s wrong.” It almost makes you tear up. It was such a Ben reaction, to not know if he’s part of the problem and still beg to make it better.

You sigh, fingering at the seatbelt sitting on your collarbone. “It’s nothing.”

“It’s not.” He pushes. “It’s not nothing. You’re not acting like yourself.” His voice cracks toward the end of his plea and you close your eyes, willing away the heartache that begins to crush your chest. Heartache for Ben. For his situation.

You want to tell him you haven’t been acting like yourself for over a month. You want to tell him you are no longer the girl he fell in love with. There’s no way to force the words out, so you say, “I’m just tired, Ben. Please drop it.”

He’s not satisfied but he abides by your wishes, falling silent beside you and focusing on the route home instead of whatever you’re upset over.

Four years. Two apartments. Countless jobs for Ben and only one for you. You’d been together so long that you weren’t sure exactly who Y/N was. Not on her own. You were, almost exclusively, it seemed, half of Ben and Y/N. Ben had become your identity and while that was something you’d once loved, something you’d almost been proud of, it now annoyed you.

When the two of you get home, you both follow your routines. Ben undresses, prepares the coffee machine for the morning, washes his face and brushes his teeth. You take off your makeup and wash your face, brush your teeth, and when you’re sure Ben has fallen asleep, you look in the mirror and convince yourself you do not resent your boyfriend. 

Several weeks later, when Ben wakes up in the morning, like most mornings the past few months, you’re already out of bed. Though you aren’t due for work for almost an hour, he can’t hear you moving about the apartment. He sighs softly, sadness settling heavy under his skin as he savors the last few minutes in bed. He still isn’t used to not hearing your singing, or your humming, or your excited chattering toward Frankie and he almost feels sick at the silence.

Ben knew. He had since your conversation in the car. There was no way for him not to. He’d been in love with you for years; he knew you down to the thread of your socks. How could you hide yourself from someone who knew the very depths of your soul? 

When you and Ben had first become friends, when he was still desperately pining after you and you were blushing at every text message, Ben had quickly learned that you were the most empathetic person he had ever met. That was what hurt him the most about the current situation: you were experiencing Ben’s pain along with him. 

Leaving for work early feels like your only breath of fresh air. You’d begun waking up earlier than Ben; early enough to run with and feed Frankie, eat your breakfast, and get out of the apartment before he was even out of the bedroom. It hurt you to not want to be with him. There had been days where he’d spend an hour trying to convince you to call in sick from work to spend all day in bed with him. There had been days—many, and much closer together than you cared to admit—when you gave into him. Part of you missed it.

Your office never changes, even when the people did. It was a constant. So was Kristi. She sits in your chair when you walk through the doors and you allow yourself to smile, greeting your friendlier coworkers and ignoring those who ignored you as you make your way to her.

“Good morning,” you greet cheerfully, setting your coffee on your desk and dropping your purse down as you leaned against the desk, smiling down at her.

“Someone’s in a good mood today.” She wiggles her eyebrows and you suppress the urge to roll your eyes. “Get some morning lovin’ from Mr. Hottie?”

This time, you don’t bother hiding your eye roll. “Ben was still asleep when I left this morning. Just...glad to be here.”

She winces. “Glad to be _here_?” You grasp your coffee, taking a hesitant sip without saying anything. “Are you still, y’know...feeling weird with him?”

You frown and avert your eyes. With a thin voice, you say, “It’s getting worse.”

Kristi also knew. She was the only one you’d told of your waning feelings for your boyfriend. She was your ultimate confidant; it was one of those work friendships that had defied all odds and bled into your real life. So, yeah, Kristi knew. You felt she had a right to the information.

“You need to talk to him,” she admonishes, glaring softly at you as you sigh.

“Trust me, I know. I know.” Your eyes close and your head falls back in a moment of quiet reflection before you feel you can look at her again. “It’s just hard. Ben is...he’s the other half of my heart. I want nothing less in this world than to hurt him.”

With one last sympathetic smile and a glance at her watch, she stands from her chair. “I should get to work. We’ll talk at lunch.”

You nod and sit down, ready to look dutifully at work whilst messaging Kristi articles and games from across the floor. A picture of you and Ben at the beach taunts you from beside your computer and it takes all that’s in you to leave it upright.

Of course, you don’t get much work done at all. Much of your day is spent pondering other things, like your grocery list and what Ben and Frankie were doing and whether or not you were going to be able to visit him while he was out of town next week, or the week after. Pondering what Ben‘s done to have you so restless with him 

He’s done nothing wrong. It’s all routine, as usual. It’s you, somewhere deep inside, your inability to be stationary rumbling and keeping you unhappy. Ben is, and has been, perfect as usual. He deserves better than someone who wasn’t sure how they felt. You think it’s the uncertainty of not knowing your own feelings that makes this so difficult. Ben could never rest. Always on, always doing something, never able to settle and always, _always_ in tune with himself. Even after fights; he needed to talk about it as soon as you’d finished fighting. He could never let things be. He pushed back. You had once admired that about him.

It’s why your one-person pity party only goes on for so long.

Your work day passes as most do and you’re on your way home by five o’clock. Rain patters against your windshield and you hum along to the music playing, mentally preparing yourself to see your boyfriend again.

You love Ben. That was a fact that would never change. You’d fallen in love with him the moment you’d met him and you knew, without a doubt, you’d love him until your last breath. But you and Ben were different. Different in ways that made you the perfect team; where you fell short, Ben filled in the gaps. But being so different took a toll, more so on you than Ben, it seemed. 

At home, Ben sits pensively on the couch. Still, even in when you could scarcely be near him , you could wax poetic for hours about how gorgeous he is, even in his current state. _Especially_ in his current state. Green eyes turn dark, eyebrows knitted together, hands wringing together as Frankie sits patiently at his feet.

“Hey,” you breathe. You toe off your shoes and put your keys in the catch bowl and pretend you’re not exhausted just at the sight of him. You know exactly what this is. Frankie pads over to you excitedly and you crouch down to give her the attention it seems Ben has been neglecting to give her all day. “And hello to you too.”

Ben finally meets your eyes and you sigh imperceptibly, giving him a tight smile. “Can you just…” He stops to collect his thoughts if only for a moment before he clears his throat. “Tell me what you’re thinking. For once. Please.”

You feel like a school child who’s gotten in trouble, standing to your full height but keeping your feet planted where they stood. “What do you mean?”

Playing it dumb only annoys Ben, who scoffs and leans back into the couch. “I _mean_ I’m leaving for a press junket in three days and you don’t seem to care. In fact, you haven’t seemed to care much to acknowledge my existence much in the past two months, and if I’m going to come home to an empty apartment in a month, I’d like to know ahead of time.”

It’s rare for him to be so snappy. Though you know you deserve it, it takes you off guard. Words escape you and your eyes narrow, annoyance roiling beneath your skin as you glare at him. “I would never do that, Ben. You of all people should know that.”

The burn of fresh tears forms behind his eyes and he stands. “I never thought you’d do a lot of things, but here we are.” The two of you stand in suffocating silence, the tension making Frankie whine. Ben sighs, his anger dissolving into gentle sadness, his shoulders slumping. "Just say it."

_Say it's over._

You can't. Just the thought of saying the words makes your stomach churn. “Ben—”

“Say it, Y/N. Don’t let me hope.”

While his tears have entirely disappeared, your own tickle your lower lash line, falling heavily onto your cheeks. “I don’t want to.”

If this were an argument, Ben would sweep you into his arms the moment he hears a tremble in your voice. But it isn’t an argument. There are no sharp words, no disagreements. You both know exactly what comes next. In five minutes, Ben won’t be your boyfriend, so why would he console you?

“Then I will.” He states plainly. You chest wracks with a sob and Frankie looks wildly between the two of you, searching for an answer she won’t receive. “We’re done.” Tears track down your face and you don’t bother trying to cry quietly as he continues speaking. “I’ll sleep in the guest room until I leave and when I get back, I’ll start looking for a new place.” You wipe futilely at your tears with the back of your hand, crossing the room and shouldering past Ben to retreat to your bedroom.

His fingers wrap around your wrist and he pulls you into his chest. You don’t fight him, your fingers clawing at the t-shirt stretched across his back as you cried. Ben blinked away his own tears and squeezed you tightly, burying his nose in your hair as you sobbed. 

“You know I love you.” He says gently. 

You hiccup. “I love you.”

“You’re still my best friend.” He assures, another sob shaking your shoulders. When his grip on you loosens enough for him to look down at you, you break free from his arms and rush down the hallway. After he hears the click of the bedroom door, he sighs quietly, his tears finally falling as he sat back down on the couch. When Frankie jumps on his lap, he accepts the comfort with no opposition.

The following morning, you wake up alone and dehydrated. Frankie scratches at the closed bedroom door, ready for her morning run but you keep your eyes closed, allowing reality to set in for a moment. Reaching for your phone, you immediately open your text thread with Kristi. 

_**Y/N:** major catastrophe. how opposed are you to missing work?_

Within seconds, you get your answer.

_**Kristi:** I’ll call in now. Come over whenever you want._

You dress quickly, eager to get out of the apartment as soon as possible. Guilt settles over you, both from last night and for not taking Frankie on her run, but you give her extra food to make up for it before you slip out the door, keys in hand.

Kristi has already changed out of her work clothes and into sweatpants when you knock on the door. Her face is turned down sympathetically, arms already outstretched. Just as Kristi knew when your problems with Ben began, she knew when they ended. New tears are already forming as she holds you, soothing hands rubbing over your back.

All day is spent on Kristi’s couch, ordering food and crying to Nicholas Sparks’ movies and holding her son to keep yourself calm. After you’ve finished _One Day_ and Caleb has fallen asleep with his head on your chest, tiny hands balled into fists, Kristi speaks up.

“Isn’t this kind of what you wanted?”

And the question makes you sick, because _isn’t it_? Didn’t you want a break from Ben? Weren’t you the one itching for change? After an extended pause, you frown and say, “Not really.” You sighed softly, resting your head against the back of the couch. “I never wanted to hurt Ben. I love him. I just...wanted something new. I just don’t think I realized I’d be losing a piece of myself to get it.”

Her brows furrow, but she doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t need to for you to know she understands.

The following days pass as slow as possible. You and Ben avoid each other at all costs. Doors close quietly and steps are light and the apartment is quiet. Quiet enough for you to go crazy. It would be silly for you to be upset about him not wanting to see you. After all, you didn’t exactly want to see him either. Frankie is split between her parents. Bedroom doors are left half-open for her to filter through throughout the night as she pleases, which makes you upset all over again. What would happen to your Frankie when you and Ben were separated?

The morning of Ben’s departure, a Saturday, you spend all day in your room, door unlocked. Just in case. Frankie seems to sense that he’s leaving, because you don’t hear from her all morning. She spends time with him as he putters around the kitchen, as he packs his toiletries, as he soaks up every last second he can get with her.

You feel as you always do when he leaves. Despite the fact that you two had barely spoken since Wednesday night, your stomach twists. The anxiety for his flight, the melancholy of not seeing him for weeks, the jealousy of those who got to. It felt the same, which only angers and confuses you further.

You don’t want to reach out to him to say goodbye. You don’t know if you had a place to do so, but as you’re flipping a page toward the end of your book, there’s a soft rap on your door.

You stand from the bed, heart pounding against your chest as you open the door to reveal Ben, shoes and jacket on, keys in hand. “Hey,” he says softly.

As though it’s a Pavlovian response, your muscles relax at the sound of his voice. “Hey.”

He shuffles on his feet. “I just wanted to tell you that I’m heading out.”

You lean against the door and nod softly. “Fly safe, okay?”

He stares down at his shoes and chuckles softly, glad for some normalcy after the awkwardness the two of you had been living in. “I will try.” He looks back to you and you look at him, eyes locked as you began to feel your own heartbeat. “I love you.”

Your heart leaps and you feel torn between a smile and frown, folding your arms over your chest. “I love you, too.”

Out of instinct, Ben leans forward to press a kiss to your lips. Panic rises in you, an automatic hand coming up to press against his chest, your eyes wide in surprise. You see him falter, green eyes losing the smallest bit of light. “Right.” He clears his throat, averting eye contact and taking a step back. Your hand falls back to your side. “I’ll, uh...I’ll see you in a few weeks.”

“Okay.” You breathe out, shuffling on your feet again. Awkwardly, Ben stands outside your door for a moment before raising his hand in a short wave before he retreats down the hallway. You stand by your door, listening to the clicking of Frankie’s nails against the hardwood floors as she followed him around.

There’s a small amount of Ben murmuring and you know he’s talking to Frankie. Your eyes close and you allow the sadness to wash over you. Your last time listening in on Ben’s goodbye to Frankie makes your heart sink deeper than you’d ever imagined it could go. The front door opens and closes and you allow your tears to fall.

When Ben returns home, all your things are gone. The only trace of your existence is a note on the counter. _Call me when you get back to sort Frankie._

Just like that, you’ve removed yourself from Ben’s life entirely.

Years of being together, gone in a moment. And, Christ, even when he calls you, you’re gone. It’s the first contact you’ve had since the morning he had left. You’ve gone mostly radio silent on social media, save for the few photos you’ve been tagged in just in the last week.

Not that Ben was watching.

He calls you the morning after he gets home, fingers tapping the countertop as his heart pounds against his chest. When you pick up, your voice is light and he can tell you’re in the middle of laughing. “Hey!”

“Hey, Y/N,” His words catch in his throat and his eyes clench closed in a silent beratement of himself. “I just got home, I was calling about Frankie.”

You gasp loudly, the laughter in the background of the call fading away as you, presumably, walked away from the group. “Shit, Ben. You’re early.”

Only by four days, but he admits that he is a little early. “Yeah, I am. Are you…” He trails off and you groan softly.

“I’m out of town. I was supposed to get back the day before you.” You say softly, shifting on your feet as you stood outside the restaurant. “But hey, Frank’s just at my mom’s house. You can pick her up whenever.”

“We’ll have to figure out a schedule or something for you to see her.” He suggests, voice quiet as a reverence settles over the two of you. Even with your slight frustration, Ben’s voice manages to soothe you.

You smile smally, shaking your head. “She’s yours, Ben.”

He doesn’t bother hiding his exclamation of resistance. “You love Frankie!” He revels in the sound of your soft laugh and just for a moment, everything feels normal again.

“She was yours first. Plus, if she’s being shuffled between the two of us, I think it might just confuse her.” You shrugged as though he could see you, leaning back against the wall. Ben grunted as the fantasy of monotony crumbled away.

“Still, I’d like for you to see her sometimes.” He pushes.

You smile. “We’ll talk about it when I get back, okay?” 

Ben’s heart flutters, his bottom lip pulled between his teeth. “Yeah.” There’s a quick moment of silence before he clears his throat. “I’ll let you go.”

“Yeah, I’ll talk to you soon.” You promise, ignoring the twinge in your stomach as the words fall from your lips.

Ben agreed and you hung up, closing your eyes and resting all your weight against the wall behind you. Life with Ben was different. Good, but different. Harder. Lonelier. Frankie had managed to keep you company most nights and you’d managed to reconnect with many old friends without Ben taking up so much of your free time. New apartments and new grocery stores and new schedules and a new life. It had all seemed so appealing but the longer you experienced it, the lonelier you felt.

But life alone had its perks. There was no adjusting your schedule around another person, which was a type of freedom you hadn’t felt in years. You spent less on groceries, watched what you wanted, and didn’t have to tiptoe around the apartment. You listened to music Ben hated and ate food he wasn’t able to, stayed up late and decorated how you wanted. 

You liked living alone.

And you like being just Y/N. Not Ben’s girlfriend. Not Ben and Y/N. Just Y/N. You feel more like yourself than you have in years. And you like going on trips with your friends, and having sleepovers. It’s a young adulthood you missed out on whilst in a serious relationship.

Ben copes differently. Time that would usually be spent at home with you is spent at the club, or with new friends, or reading new scripts. He settles into a new routine, one that makes him feel full with things he’d never had much interest in before. 

When you start posting on social media again, Ben pretends he doesn’t notice. He looks at your instagram obsessively, though he’s not sure why. You don’t talk anymore. He hadn’t expected you to. It still hurts.

He keeps up with your friends who post excessively. He’s suddenly grateful to Megan, who insists on taking a photo every time the two of you are together. He’s memorized your camera smile over the years, but this one looks different. Like it’s not really a camera smile at all. Sometimes, you don’t even smile. You give a playful pout or feign shock at the camera and sometimes you don’t even notice she’s taking a picture, your laughter frozen in the snapshot. He knows you kind of hate it. He’s, more than ever, grateful for your friend.

You can’t pretend you don’t miss Ben. As good as your life is, it’s different without him. And Ben, whether he knew it or not, still held your heart. But he needs the time alone as much as you do. He deserves it. And he’s better off without you. You think.

On a Saturday night you’d rather spend on your couch, you find yourself in a club, bass bouncing and lights flashing. Megan and her girlfriend, the only reasons you’d even entertained the idea of coming out, sit across from you at a tall table, tangled in one another and definitely drunk.

“You need to get back out there!” Cleo slurs loudly, her foot kicking you softly beneath the table. You smile cedingly, shaking your head and sipping your drink quietly.

Megan gives you a disapproving look. “Y/N, it’s been _months_ since you broke up with Ben.” She reminds, reaching out for your hand. She’s less intoxicated than her girlfriend, but the flush on her cheeks speaks for itself. “I’m not saying you need to sleep with someone else to get over him, but I’m definitely saying that.”

“I’m over him!” You lie, and you wish you’d called Kristi instead. You’d much rather be with her and her husband and kids in their quiet home than with your drunk friends in a booming club. The girls flash one another knowing looks but neither say anything. You sigh. “I’m going to get a new drink.”

They stay silent, allowing you to slip from your stool without further explanation. You push through the sweaty crowd, rolling your eyes at the leering eyes and loud remarks.

You feel like you can finally breathe at the bar, elbows leaning against the freshly wiped wood as you asked for another drink with a tilted head and a honeyed smile. 

“I know that look.”

You don’t even need to glance over to know who it is, a nervous smile already pulling at your lips as you look anyway. Ben smirks at you, sliding onto the stool to your left. And christ, he looks sinful. You’d seen him in this exact outfit hundreds of times and never once had it looked so perfectly fit on him.

“Do you?” You ask innocently, turning to face him. Your nervousness melts into something different, something you share. Knowing, maybe. 

“I know all your looks.” He reminds, clicking his tongue. “You don’t want to be here, so you’re getting an extra drink.” You barely notice him sliding some cash across the bar when your drink is finished. He smiles pridefully and you release a disbelieving laugh, shaking your head and gracefully accepting the drink.

“Never did understand how you do that.” You admit, gazing down into your glass.

“You’re too easy to read.”

“I suppose you’re right.”

Because you’re too easy to read or because he knows you far too well, he leans over to preserve his voice. “Do you want to go somewhere quieter? I want to catch up with you.”

You shouldn’t. The voice in your head is screaming at you to say no, but you finish your drink quickly and flash a coy smile to him, taking his hand and allowing him to drag you through the crowd again.

Ben pulls you through the bodies, hand warm and secure in yours as his eyes settle on the back exit. You pray to god that Megan doesn’t see the omnipresent blonde as he slips out of the door into the crisp night air. Finally, with the pounding bass hidden behind the wall, the two of you are left in a moment of silence before Ben laughs softly, the familiar click of a lighter soothing your nerves as he lit a cigarette.

“So, who managed to drag you out?” He asks softly, words slightly mumbled with the cigarette between his lips.

“Megan,” you answer, your eyes rolling as you leaned back against the wall. You hadn’t realized how hot you were inside, but the cool brick pressing against your shoulders is enough to make you sigh in relief.

“I didn’t know you were still hanging around with her.” Lie.

“Just a bit more than I used to.” Understatement.

Ben exhales, the grey smoke curling into the air until you can’t see it anymore. You’d always hated the habit, and hated even more how good he looked doing it. Some things never changed. “How’s your mum?”

“She’s good.” You clear your throat. “Told me you guys get lunch once a month.” 

He laughs, not playing it off and not denying it. “Yeah. We missed last month.” He remarks. 

“How’s Frankie?”

It’s the golden question. The one he’s been waiting for you to ask. Taking another drag of his cigarette, he smiles smally. “She’s good. Misses you.”

“I miss her too.” 

You both know what he’s going to ask before he does, but you allow him to suffer through asking it. “You wanna see her?”

Not for the first time that night, your brain screams for you to say no, but you allow a small smile to cover your lips and you nod. After all, you’re just down the street from his place. What could a small trip hurt?

The air is thick between the two of you as you turn your backs to the club, your heels clicking on the pavement. The air is only slightly chilled, the night unusually warm for March. You make a mental note to text Megan to tell her you left with someone and ask her to grab your jacket before her and Cleo leave. Your brows knit together as you begin to second-guess your exit with Ben, but when you turn to say something to him, he’s got a small smile on his face.

“I can hear you thinking from here, Y/N.” 

You flush, rolling your eyes and nudging him with your elbow to keep him from teasing you further. “Shut up,” you mumble, looking down at your feet.

Ben stays silent but doesn’t bother hiding the smile playing on his lips. After a moment of comfortable silence, you look up to him. His smile makes one of your own appear and you shake your head, looking up the street to gauge the distance to the apartment building. It feels just like it used to. His arm slithers around your waist and you’re both giggling and you’re back with your best friend, almost like the nights you’d come home early from the exact same club. Though missing Ben had become a constant for you, it comes to the forefront so rapidly that it almost makes you nauseous. 

When he guides you inside, his hand is firm on your lower back. He follows you upstairs, holding you securely, and only relinquishes touch when he puts the key in the door. You can hear Frankie’s small bark as he pushes the door open. Coming back to the apartment feels like a safety blanket. The only thing that was missing was the large print of the three of you that had once hung above the couch.

When Ben sees you staring at the empty space, he purses his lips. “In the guest room,” he answers softly. “Kind of hard to look at.” You nod. Understandably, Ben would rather talk about anything else, so he clears his throat and calls out, “Frankie! Mum’s here.”

You hear the clicking of her nails on the hardwood and you drop to your knees excitedly. The beagle comes screaming into the living room, nearly drifting as she turned the corner. “Hi, Frank!” You exclaim, hands reaching out for her.

She jumps into your lap, panting eagerly as she tried to lick your face. Ben laughs softly as he watches your reunion and you look up at him with a bright smile. “Look at you two.”

You stand up only to flop back down on the couch, Frankie jumping excitedly up with you. “Back together.” Your grin is unmoving as you hold her to your chest, only giggling at her overexcited squirming. 

Ben smiles widely at the two of you, sitting next to you as Frankie bounced between the two of you, excited to have her parents back together. His arm is thrown across the back of the couch, fingers tickling the bare skin of your shoulders. You both share a knowing look as the dog settled between you, her head on your thigh and her body on Ben’s lap and it’s only then that you realize how close he is to you.

“I’m glad I got to see you,” he admits, fingers tracing mindless patterns on your shoulder.

“I’m glad, too,” you say softly. The feeling of being back in your old apartment with him, Frankie between you, feels so much like the life you had once lived that when Ben leans forward to kiss you, you don’t push him away.

Frankie bounces away as though she knows what’s happening and you allow Ben to pull you into his lap. The kiss is all teeth and tongue but you can’t remember the last kiss you’d shared with someone that made the inside of your stomach feel like a fire pit. His hands roam everywhere, unable to decide where to rest as he moves from your thighs to your waist to your hips to your face. He tastes like cigarettes and the faintest bit of beer and _Ben_. It’s like sinking back into something so incredibly familiar, like coming home.

You throw your arms around his neck and try not to break the kiss as you clamber out of his lap. Kicking off your shoes, you moan quietly into his mouth and drag him down the hall into your bedroom.

When you push the door open, your eyes fall onto the clothes scattered about the room. Despite yourself, you giggle. “You’re such a mess.” 

He wraps his arms around your waist, pressing wet kisses along your neck. “You kept me in check.”

You roll your eyes, spinning around and fiddling with the button of his jeans. There’s an unspoken conversation as you stare at one another, about whether or not this was a good idea. With your fingers hovering at the waistband of his jeans, and his foot nearing the door, you bite your lip and pop the button. He kicks the door closed.

Everything is a flash of hands and discarded clothing, Ben’s teeth nipping at your lip as he unzips your dress. “I missed you,” he breathes, pushing you toward the bed. He flings his shirt across the room and briefly, you realize why the room is so messy. You grin.

“I missed you,” you return, giggling as he pulls your panties down and flings them the same direction as his shirt.

Your body reacts to him perfectly, as it always did, and he grins as he runs his fingers through your folds. “So responsive.”

You can only bite your lip, sitting up on your elbows to watch how perfectly he works you. Green eyes stare up at you, soaking up every reaction he can. One finger slides easily inside of you, a pleased smirk pulling his lips as you released a tremulous moan. “Ben, I need—”

“I know how you need it, angel,” he assures, thumb rubbing your clit slowly as he pushed another finger inside. Another moan falls from your lips, high-pitched and desperate as his hand began to speed up. You hadn’t been with anyone since Ben, so when his fingers curl inside you, you whine loudly and your hips roll against his hand. “Feels good, yeah?”

You can’t even begin to describe the need coursing through your veins, so instead of answering his question, you smile down at him, biting your lip darkly. “Need you.”

He withdraws his hand, wrapping his arms around your thighs and dragging you closer to him roughly. When you squeal, he grins up at you. “Just one taste.” One taste, you think, you can handle. There were definitely worse things. He licks a thick stripe from your entrance up to your clit, which he sucks into his mouth with a moan. You fall to your back, fingers searching for purchase on the rumpled duvet as he laps excitedly at your entrance. “Y’taste the same.” He grins, almost too sweet for your current circumstance.

He releases your thighs and discards his boxers, pushing them down hurriedly as he takes his place atop you.

“Still on the pill?” He asks quickly.

Your hands lift to wrap around his shoulders, a rushed nod sufficing as an answer as he lines himself up and slowly begins to push inside you. The shock of being filled is enough for you to moan, eyes fluttering closed as he continues to slip in.

“Faster,” you urge, so soft that if he hadn’t been right above you, he might not have heard it at all. He obliges, taking a steadying breath and beginning to thrust, his own eyes closing as he exhales a soft moan. “Ben,” you whine, eyes crinkling in frustration.

Both pairs of eyes open to stare at one another and Ben smiles coyly. He knows exactly what you need, just what makes you tick and he decides to take pity on you. Carefully, he adjusts one of your legs upon his shoulder, fingers gripping your thigh as his other hand held him above you while his hips speed up.

You can’t help the loud moan that echoes throughout the room at both the new angle and the stretch. The pace he sets is dizzying and your hands are roaming everywhere, from his body to your own to the duvet, brows knitted together as you stared up at him. It’s so good that you want to cry but all you can do is moan, fingers finally digging into sheets to ground yourself.

Ben’s grunts are barely loud enough to hear. “Still look so fucking pretty underneath me,” he forces out. His hair falls into his eyes and you revel in it all, the sight of him above you and the way he feels inside of you and being back in your bed. He lets out a breathless moan and you whine at the sound, stomach lurching. 

Ben’s hips slow, dragging against yours softly as you throw your head back into the pillow. He brushes your g-spot with every shallow thrust. You wouldn’t be able to force out a coherent sentence if you tried, so you gasp out, “God fucking—Ben. _Shit_.”

“I know,” he breathes. “So tight, baby.” His cheeks are flushed, hips drawing away from yours slowly until he sunk back in.

You curse again, gripping the sheets so tightly you fear they may permanently wrinkle, face warped in pleasure. Five months, you remind yourself. Five months without him. Without anyone. 

“Why don’t you rub that pretty little clit for me, hm?” He asks lowly, fingertips digging into your leg so harshly that you knew without a doubt you’d be left with the evidence of tonight. 

One of your hands sneaks between your bodies, rubbing your clit in tight circles. You whimper, eyes glued to Ben’s as he drove you both to orgasm. “More, Ben, please. I-I need more.” The familiar pressure builds in the pit of your stomach and with a shaky voice, you beg, “I’m so close, please.”

He speeds up again, your other leg thrown over his shoulder haphazardly as Ben adjusted himself on his knees. The sight alone would be enough to make you come, a sweaty Ben with your legs over his shoulders, pressing casual kisses to you calf as though he wasn’t buried inside of you. But the way he feels inside you is there to make you cry out, tears building in your eyes as your first real orgasm in months builds, your fingers rubbing faster circles against your clit.

“M’gonna come, Ben,” You warn, eyes rolling back as he grips your thighs tightly. 

He grins. “Me too. Let me see you.”

Your orgasm washes over you and your eyes clench shut, moan after moan falling from you until they echoed around the room, along with Ben’s. Your muscles clenching around Ben leave him a whimpering mess as he comes too, hips stilling against yours as you caught your breath.

He collapses next to you, breathing ragged. “Christ,” He huffs, looking over to you with a cheeky grin.

You can only offer a half-hearted agreement, panting beside him like you’d just run a marathon. There’s a sudden sense of sobriety running through your veins. You’d been drunk on him all night, the smiles, the touches, and the normalcy. But now you roll over, struggling to catch your breath for an entirely different reason.

And then, in the moonlight filtering through the sheer curtains, you spot an empty frame, dismantled and collecting dust in the corner of the room. It’s a frame you’re all too familiar with, so your eyes narrow. “Hey, isn’t that the frame from the living room?”

Ben grunts and follows your eyes, looking at the frame. “No.”

You groan, head falling into the pillow. Your words are muffled when you say, “Don’t lie to me, Ben.”

He huffs. “Why ask if you already know the answer?”

Rolling over, you narrow your eyes at him. “Why lie about it not once, but twice? You told me it was in the guest room.”

Ben runs a hand through his hair and falls back into the pillows. “Well, yeah. I lied. Sorry. Don’t get why it’s such a big fuckin’ deal.”

You recoil at the venom in his words, sitting up in the bed you had once shared. After an extended silence, you say, “This was a mistake.” Your cracking voice betrays your indifferent exterior. 

You swing your legs over the side of the bed, suddenly shy under his gaze. You redress quickly, bouncing around the bedroom as he sits up to watch you. He stands, opening the dresser drawer to pull on a new pair of underwear as you leave the bedroom.

He follows you out, standing behind you as you say goodbye to Frankie. You look at the blank wall again and you’re hit with a brand-new, red hot wave of anger, so you spin around and say, “Did you take it down so none of your little girlfriends would see it?”

Flatly, he replies, “Yeah, Y/N. That’s why I took it down, not because we broke up.” It would be a fair point if you still didn't feel as though it was partly your apartment too. 

“Whatever,” you scoff, opening the door.

“You’re being ridiculous.” He huffs, making you stop. “I don’t understand what the big deal is. You don’t live here anymore.” You still don’t say anything, taking another step out the door until he says, “You’re the one who fell out of love with me.”

You spin around to stare at him in disbelief, your heart pounding against your chest as you willed your tears away. “I didn’t fall out of love with you, you asshole, but right now I wish I had.”

“Then why’d you leave?”

You glare at him, lips pulled into a frown as Frankie pattered into the room, head cocking at the sight of you in the doorway. “Because I thought you deserved someone who could give you one hundred percent.” There’s a small moment of silence. “But now I’m thinking that I just knew you’d turn back into this.”

“Turn back into what?” He snaps. You close the door quietly. You were nothing if not courteous. 

“You’re _pre-me Be_ v!” You exclaim, waving your hands in his direction vaguely to prove your point. “You were a total fuckboy prick before we got together. Once we were together you were someone that people actually liked, Ben, but look at you now. You’re right back at square one.”

“Well, whose fault is that?” He spits. Frankie whines.

“Don’t blame this bullshit on me. The breakup was me, but who you are? That’s all on you,” You remark hotly, slinging your purse across your body. “You’re an adult, Ben. You can’t keep pinning your problems on everyone else.”

“You pinned your commitment issues on me,” He cries, waving in your direction. “You act like you broke up with me to protect me from your own shortcomings but you can’t stand the thought of someone actually caring about you, because god knows it doesn’t happen often enough for you to get used to it.”

The air between the two of you is heavy as his words settle. You purse your lips, nodding once as you turned back to open the door again.

“Y/N—“ 

“You’re a fucking asshole, Ben.” 

The door closes behind you before he can say anything else. He doesn’t follow you.

You half expect him to call you in the following days so you can talk it out, not that you’d probably accept. But that was what ‘best friends’ did, right? 

What a joke. An embarrassing, exhausting, ridiculous joke. An even worse joke was that you actually believed that you and Ben could be friends after you broke up. Or worse, that you thought he’d truly changed for the better.

The bruises on your thighs fade within a few days but you’re still sensitive to his name. You think, truly this time, this is for the best.

Even Frankie seems to know Ben has monumentally screwed up, avoiding him when he needs her most. She doesn’t follow him around the apartment anymore, only coming close enough for him to love her when she sleeps at his feet at night. 

The breakup with Ben had been one of the hardest things you had ever gone through, but you’d managed to pick yourself up. Now, however, all your attention was focused on that night, how quickly he’d flipped from being your Ben to being someone so spiteful and rude. Someone who wanted to hurt you. More than that, you think of how he had made you feel. How even though the thought of the night makes you sick, you don’t regret it.

Several weeks after that night, you get an unusual call. You’re still at work, much later than usual. The office is nearly empty when your cell phone begins to ring from on top of your desk. Without looking at the caller ID, barely glancing away from your computer screen, you pick up the phone. “Hello?”

“Y/N?”

You frown, pulling your phone back to glance at the screen, ensuring it was who you thought it was, before raising it back to your ear. “Joe?”

“Hey!” He exclaims, voice bright and loud.

You laughed, confused. “Hey! What’s up?”

“Do I need an excuse to talk to my friend?” He asks. You roll your eyes.

“When was the last time we spoke on the phone?”

He doesn’t miss a beat. “Ah, don’t be a party pooper. I miss you.”

“I miss you, too,” you giggle. Your eyes raise, catching sight of your coworker approaching your desk.

 _Can I talk to you?_ Michael mouths, face wrinkled in concern.

You smile and pull the phone from your mouth as Joe got distracted on the other line. “Give me one second,” you whisper softly. Louder, in the microphone of your cell phone, you ask again, “What’s up, Joe?” 

“I just called to remind you to keep a few days open for me next week, I fly out tomorrow morning.” 

You gasp softly. “Shit, Joe! I totally forgot. Are you still staying with Ben?”

He scoffs. “Yeah, I am, but if we get drunk enough I might utilize your guest room.” 

You giggle and nod, though you know he can’t see you. “That’s good with me.” You look up to see Michael waiting patiently and smiling softly. “Hey, Joe, I’ve got to go. Call me when you land tomorrow and we’ll plan something, okay?”

“Will do. Love you, talk to you soon.” He says offhandedly, the sound of his blinker clicking over the phone.

“Love you lots, talk to you soon.” You hang up with an overdramatic sigh before you look up to Michael with a steady smile. “What’s up?”

He grins down at you. “Big plans this week?” He asks, a hopeful smile on his face. You can feel it coming and your lips tug up in the corner. 

“I have a friend flying in from America tomorrow.” You nod, leaning on your elbow. 

He exclaims excitedly and you grin at his enthusiasm. “That’s great! For how long?”

“A few weeks, I think,” you nod. 

Michael is cute. You’d always thought so, but you’d always been with Ben. But now, you can feel the question lingering on his mind and you’re fully appreciating his smooth smile and bright eyes. 

“Do you think—“ he clears his throat and you have to hide a small smile. He was nervous. “Do you think you’ll have a free night?”

You smile coyly. You really don’t want to torment him, but it doesn’t stop you from saying, “Probably. Why?”

He’s a little more confident when he asks, “Can I take you out to dinner?”

Your coy smile grows into a grin and you can feel your cheeks warm. “I’d really like that.”

Michael’s eyes light up and he rolls back on his heels, eyes squinting as he smiles. “Awesome,” he says coolly. You tilt your head, still grinning. “I’ll, uh...text you. Later this week.” 

You nod and he sticks his hands in his pockets, nodding once and turning on his heel. You watch him retreat, a soft laugh falling from your lips as you shook your head. 

When Joe lands, Ben picks him up at the airport. He’s got a dorky little handmade sign with Joe’s name on it and a big grin on his face. They share an excited hug, Joe bouncing around as he falls in step behind Ben. “Y’look great!” Ben exclaims, clapping Joe on the shoulder. He takes one of his bags to lighten Joe’s load and his friend smiles.

“So do you.” He returns, following Ben through the airport. “What are we doing first?”

Ben chuffs a laugh, shaking his head. “You just got off a 10-hour flight.”

“And I slept the whole time, so I’m ready to party.” Joe waggles his brows and Ben grins. “I’m starving. Let’s get breakfast.” 

“Breakfast sounds good.” Ben agreed easily.

“Oh! You should invite Y/N.”

Ben blanches, clearing his throat quietly and shaking his head once. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea, mate.”

Joe frowns, walking outside into the humid London air. “I thought you guys were on good terms.”

The blonde purses his lips, looking at Joe with a guilty look. “We were.”

“But?”

Ben takes a breath and frowns. “We slept together about a month ago.”

“Holy shit!”

Joe stops walking, staring at his friend. Ben’s eyes look at his car, less than fifteen feet away from them. “Joe—“

“You _slept together_?” Joe cries, cocking his hip and glaring at his best friend.

“Yell a little louder, Joe,” Ben hisses, putting his hands on his hips. The small stare down only lasts a moment before he deflates under Joe’s stare. “We slept together and I was a total asshole after.”

Joe stares sympathetically at Ben, closing the gap between them. “It doesn’t sound like her to stay mad.” Joe notes, frowning. “You did apologize, right?”

Ben stays silent.

“Ben, you dumb dick.”

“I know,” he groans, head falling forward to stare at his feet. “I really fucked up this time.”

Joe continues walking, past Ben and toward the car. Over his shoulder, he asks, “Well, how are you going to fix it?”

It’s a question Ben had asked himself a thousand times in the past few weeks, but he still comes up short with an answer. Unlocking the car, he grunts, “I don’t know if there’s anything I can do this time, Joe.”

Joe scoffs. “There’s always something you can do.”

Ben isn’t sure how true that is but Joe is certain, so he doesn’t say anything as he puts a suitcase in the backseat of his car and slides in behind the wheel.

Joe doesn’t even wait to get to Ben’s apartment before he’s calling you, putting it on speaker. From the driver’s seat, Ben listens carefully to the phone ringing, his nose scrunching in confusion until he hears your unmistakable lilt. “Joe!”

Ben looks to his best friend, panic written all over his face as Joe ignores him. “Hey! I just landed.”

You gasp and coo softly. “When are you free?”

Joe finally looks over at Ben, a smirk growing on his face. “Actually, Ben and I are going to get some breakfast. Can you slip away from work for a little bit?”

Ben knows the answer is yes, but he can hear you clear your throat in preparation to let him down. “Sorry, Joe. I can’t.”

Your friend is relentless and he hums. “No worries! What about dinner tonight?”

You chuckle tiredly. “I can’t.”

A pout forms on Joe’s lips and you can nearly hear it over the phone when he says, “What if I uninvite Ben?”

There’s a real laugh finally and Ben feels his heart skip at the sound, his eyes nearly closing in relief at just the sound of your joy. “Seriously, Joe, I’d love to, but I can’t. I’ve got…” You purse your lips, briefly trying to decide whether or not to divulge the information. Finally, after Joe has waited patiently, you say, “I have a date.”

Ben feels like he’s been punched in the chest, his foot pressing a little too hard on the brake pedal as he turned into the parking garage.

“Oh,” Joe says softly, looking at Ben sympathetically.

“Sorry, Joe. But I’m free pretty much every other night, so we can meet up tomorrow?” 

You’re completely unaware of the turmoil mounting in Ben’s car. Joe breaths out as Ben grasps desperately at the remnants of his composure, though he can feel it steadily slipping from his grip. “Yeah, that sounds great. I’ll text you, okay?”

“Yeah, sounds good. Hey, I’ve gotta go, I’ll text you later to make a plan, yeah?”

Joe agrees and hangs up, the silence stifling both men as Ben pulls into a space and puts the car in park. Leaning back in his seat, he runs a hand through blonde hair that’s grown a little too long as Joe struggles to find the words he needs to comfort his best friend. Finally, they settle on no words at all as they clamber out of the car. 

But Ben’s pity party doesn’t last very long. Joe insists on going to dinner to take his mind off of you (“We’ll go somewhere she hates! You won’t even be able to remember her name.”) So, over a plate of salmon he hates to admit is actually rather delicious, Ben is so, so close to getting you off his mind, until he hears your laugh.

He could almost convince himself he was wrong, that he imagined it, but the twist of Joe’s expression confirms what he already knows. You were in the same restaurant.

It doesn’t take much to find you and when he does, his heart stops and sinks to his stomach. You look like a vision, your makeup perfectly done with your hair just so, he can almost feel tears building in his eyes. 

“Oh, fuck.” Joe murmurs softly, finally turning around to look at you. “You said she hates it here.”

Ben clears his throat. “She does.”

Joe spins back around to look at Ben. “We can get some boxes, take it home.” 

Ben shakes his head, desperately trying to keep himself from looking back at you. Taking a deep breath, he looks back up to deny Joe when he catches your eye.

You look just as surprised as he does, unable to look away. Michael follows your eyes, his mouth opening in surprise. Ben recognizes him from the countless work parties you’d dragged him to. He even remembers his name, as unspectacular as their interactions had been.

“Is that Ben?” Michael asks softly. You finally break eye contact with Ben, whose breathing is unsteady as you smile weakly at your date.

“Yeah. And Joe.”

“The American?”

You chuckle softly with a nod. “That’d be the one.”

And Michael, bless his sweet heart, nudges you softly. “You should go say hi.” When you open your mouth to say no, he tilts his head. “I’ll wait.”

So, swallowing your pride, you stand and smooth out your dress as you walk the short distance to the table. Ben’s lips are parted in surprise as he stares at you but you don’t acknowledge him as you rest a soft hand on Joe’s shoulder.

He looks up at you with a smile, as though he already knows who you are, and despite Ben struggling with words, he jumps from his seat to throw his arms around you. “Y/N!”

“When did you land?”

“This morning.” He pulls back and holds you at arm's length, taking in your appearance as you flush. “You look gorgeous.” 

“Thank you.” You say gracefully. 

Ben clears his throat and you both look to him. “You do. Look incredible.” He chokes out.

“Thanks.” You answer curtly, looking back to Joe. “Let’s get breakfast tomorrow, if your jet lag isn’t too bad.”

Joe looks between you and Ben like he can’t even recognize you before he settles on you sadly. 

“Y/N…” Ben sighs 

You close your eyes and hold out a hand lowly toward him. “Not now, Ben.” You look back to Michael, his eyes watching the three of you carefully. You sigh. “I should get back.”

Ben wants desperately to stand up, to wrap you in his arms and kiss you until neither of you can breathe, but he just watches you, eyes soft as you hug Joe once more and walk back to your seat without a second glance. Joe looks between the two of you again, the same crestfallen look on his face. “Ben,” he sighs softly. “Let’s go.”

“No.” Ben huffs firmly. “We decided to come here. We’re practically done, let’s just finish.”

You’re barely present throughout the rest of your date, all your smiles forced and the conversation week, until Michael smiles sadly at you.

You groan, head falling into your hands. “I’m sorry.” _For saying hi, for being withdrawn, for going out with you while I’m still in love with him_. There are more than a thousand ways for you to finish that sentence, but Michael only shakes his head.

“It’s okay, Y/N. Really. Do you want me to take you home?”

Your answer comes in the form of another apology. Michael is the perfect gentleman, too. Pays the check and opens your door and doesn’t even think about kissing you on your doorstep. Instead, he wraps his arms around you in a comforting embrace before pushing you into the warmth of the apartment.

Briefly, as you’re undressing and taking off your makeup, you curse Ben for ruining things without even being involved, but you know it’s all you. Months had passed since your breakup with Ben, so why were you still falling apart at the seams after seeing him once? 

Four years together couldn’t be erased in six months. Logically, you know that. But it doesn’t stop you from being frustrated with yourself over your feelings for Ben. You’d always love Ben. You just didn’t know it would always be so prominent.

After a few hours of moping around your apartment, there’s a pounding on your door. 

You already know _exactly_ who it is, but it doesn’t stop you from sighing heavily as you stood from the couch to look through the peephole. He looks back earnestly, like he knows you’re watching him.

“Go away.” 

His shoulders slump. “Y/N, please.”

“I think we’ve both said our peace.” You say, still watching him.

His eyes close and his head falls forward. As though he still controls you, your head rests against the door. “I haven’t said mine.”

There’s a new resurgence of your anger. Unlocking the door, you swing it open to glare at him. “I think you said plenty.”

He knows better than to reach for you, so he shuffles on his feet and sticks his hands in his pockets. “What I said that night was wrong. I never should have said that to you, not just because it was shitty but because it was an outright _lie_. Please, just give me five minutes.”

You stare at him in thought. You know better, you honestly do, but you have no willpower when it comes to Ben and the look he’s giving you makes you want to throw your arms around him, so you open the door a little bit wider and step back so he can come inside.

“He’s not here?” His voice is high with surprise and you suppress the urge to punch him.

“No.” And after a beat of silence, “Why do you even care?”

He just looks at you as if he can’t believe you’re even asking the question.

“Because it was supposed to be us.”

You groan. “No it wasn’t, Ben. That’s why we broke up.”

“It was.” He insists. “You and I were supposed to end up together and I’m still so in love with you that just seeing you tonight almost made me cry. I fucking care because you and I are meant to be together and we _aren’t_ , and I still haven’t come to terms with it.”

His tired eyes stare at you with an intensity that makes your stomach churn. “Why? Why are you so hung up on me?”

“Because you’re the love of my life.”

Tears build in your eyes. “No, I’m not.”

“Stop fighting with me.” He demands softly, reaching for your hands. He grips your wrists, pressing your palms flat against his chest and you can feel the erratic beating of his heart. “You are. There’s not another person out there so perfectly suited for me, and me for you. You know that.”

“Having history doesn’t make us soulmates, Ben.” You bite.

“No, it doesn’t.” He admits, taking your attitude in stride. “But it has reassured me of the fact.” 

You can see the tears in his eyes and it only makes your own fall, a lump forming in your throat. You pull your hands from his chest and put them on your hips, turning your back to him to allow yourself a moment to catch your composure, tears beginning to run down your cheeks.

“What do I have to do?” He finally asks, voice thin with tears. You turn to look at him, seeing his skin grow red from crying. “What can I change for us to go back? I will.”

“Don’t…” you clear your throat, wiping your tears with the back of your hand. “Don’t change anything. You’re perfect, it wasn’t you.”

“Bullshit!” He cries, running a despondent hand through his hair. “What else could it have been? It wasn’t you.”

“It was.” You assure him softly. “Ben, we were together for a long time. We’re different people now.”

“I thought that was a good thing.” 

You allow yourself a thin laugh, groaning softly when you see his tired smile. “It is. It was.” You look away from him to take a deep breath. “I just didn’t know who I was anymore. And I needed to figure that out. It wasn’t fair for me to keep you around while I was looking for myself.”

“Did you find her?” He asks softly.

Pursing your lips, you nod thoughtfully. “Yeah. I think I did.”

His voice is hopeful when he asks, “Does she have room to keep me around?” 

You sigh again, feeling the tears rush back. “It isn’t that easy, Ben.”

“Why not?” He finally gains the courage to approach you, calloused hands raising to cup your cheeks. He searches your face for an answer. “Just because we’re different people now doesn’t mean I don’t still love you. It doesn’t mean that I don’t need you.” You stare up at him, gripping his wrists as his thumbs stroke your cheekbones. “‘Cause I do. I need you. That has become so painfully obvious these past few months. Just...please. Take a risk on me. _Again_.”

You laugh softly, looking down. “Ben…”

“It won’t be easy now. I know that. But I’d rather spend the rest of my life fighting with you than another day without you.”

You can’t bear to hear him anymore so you throw your arms around his neck and press your lips against his. He holds you tightly, afraid you’ll slip away as he kisses you, hands pressing you against him. The night you spent together a month ago felt like coming home but this was more than that. The puzzle pieces that you’d been forcing for the last nine months of your relationship suddenly slid into place so perfectly you swore you could hear the click.

He pulls away only to press more chaste kisses to your lips, a string of them, barely over before the next began. “I love you.”

It feels so good to hear him say it again that you can’t even let go of him. Wrapping him tighter in your arms, you breathe, “I love you. So much.”

And all at once, things began to feel right again.


End file.
